INDIA 1 – PART 3
Kanyakumari, India – Bhairawa, Nepal
18
January 2009 – 24 March 2009
3 651 Km - 65 Days
13-17
January - Kanyakumari
Kanyakumari
- Chennai - By train
As
the sun dipped beneath the horizon, Amanda and I settled into our seats on the
train bound for Chennai. Our overnight journey was filled with laughter as we
reminisced about our recent ride.
We
arrived in Chennai just as dawn broke, but the city was already a hive of
activity. After checking into a hotel, we wasted no time in packing her bike
and organising her luggage for the long flight back home to South Africa.
With
some time to spare, we ventured into the heart of Chennai, exploring its breathtaking
temples, each a magnificent tribute to the city's rich heritage. Every temple
we visited was a treasure trove of intricate carvings and colourful sculptures.
We soaked in the serene atmosphere, captivated by the devotion around us.
As
the day drew to a close, Amanda was ready to board her flight. Saying goodbye
felt bittersweet, knowing our adventures together were coming to an end.
Afterwards, I hopped back on a train to Kanyakumari, ready to embrace new
experiences laying ahead.
18
January – Kanyakumari – Tirunelveli – 83 km
The
following morning Ernest and I resumed our journey along the subcontinent's
east coast in a northerly direction. The first 30 kilometres were into a stiff breeze
past wind farms, indicating that the area was notoriously windy. There was
nothing one could do but battle onwards, humming, "There are days like that".
Two
hours after leaving Kanyakumari, we stopped for brunch at a roadside
restaurant. We were served a bowl of authentic South-Indian rice and spicy
vegetables on a banana leaf (without any cutlery). Eating with our fingers was
a challenge. Ernest became quite an expert at it, while I preferred to use a
spoon, much to the amusement of our ever-present onlookers.
The road was in good condition, allowing
for an early arrival in the historical city of Tirunelveli, which is said to be
more than 2,000 years old. The town was fairly large, making it easy to find
both accommodation and food.
19
January - Tirunelveli - Sattur – 83 km
Cycling
with the "Highwayman" meant spending the day biking along a
monotonous stretch of road into the wind on a brand-new, double-lane highway.
Still, traffic went in both directions on either side, somewhat defeating its
purpose. Despite this, farmers were delighted with the road, which facilitated
easy threshing of their rice crops by spreading the grain upon the tarmac.
Sattur
was a bustling village with an abundance of street food, mostly consisting of delicious
Indian snacks. The town was typical of India's diversity and featured Shiva,
Vishnu, Mariamman, and Arulmigu Muthalamman Temples, as well as an old Masjid.
20
January - Sattur – Madurai – 81 km
The
day began with much promise, but it was soon overshadowed by a relentless
headwind. Yet, Amanda's wisdom lingered in my mind—there's no need to rush.
Upon
arriving in Madurai, we settled into a comfortable abode, ideal for a two-night
stay, as this historic town was bursting with sights to explore. Our room,
however, felt like the epicentre of chaos, the unmistakable sounds of city life
crashing around us—cars honking, motorbikes roaring, and music blasting through
the walls. It was a cacophony that threatened to drown out our thoughts. Still,
the price was right, and I found myself too captivated by the vibrant energy of
Madurai to complain.
21
January - Madurai
We
spent the following day wandering around Madurai's delightful maze of narrow lanes.
Being the second-largest city in Tamil Nadu, Madurai had traffic to match. Moreover,
the town was known as Temple City, and filled with pilgrims, making the
congestion even more horrendous.
We
planned to explore the famous Meenakshi Temple, constructed between 1190 and 1216
CE and an important pilgrimage site. Sadly, the main temple complex was being renovated,
and although one could enter, the exterior was covered up. The complex, nevertheless,
remained imposing due to its sheer size.
22
January - Madurai – Tiruppattur – 70 km
Shortly
after leaving Madurai, our path turned off the highway and followed a considerably
smaller road toward Tiruppattur, believed to be more than 1,600 years old. The
route led past a bird sanctuary and paddy fields, giving the ride a tranquil
feel. It's always a pleasure to be away from the highway and traffic. Here, one
can enjoy the countryside and the hills around town, which are famous for their
sandalwood, whose oil is the essence of my favourite perfume.
23
January - Tiruppattur – Pudukkottai – 80 km
Operating
in low gear, a slow cycle along country lanes led past numerous temples,
shrines, rice fields and small villages to Pudukkottai. Once again, the road was
used as a threshing floor and rice was spread upon the tarmac, forcing vehicles
to drive over the crops before winnowing.
Historical
Pudukkottai, rich in cultural heritage, is situated along the Vellar riverbanks
and was surprisingly large with the usual chaotic traffic, a host of old
temples, and a fort.
24
January - Pudukkottai – Thiruchirappalli – 55 km
The
day turned out to be an easy ride to Tiruchirappalli, one of India's oldest
inhabited cities, sporting a history dating to the third century BC.
Digs
were at the Ashby Hotel, which looked a tad worse for wear from the outside but
was quite pleasant inside. Being an old British guesthouse, it had remains of
old wooden furniture, and the rooms opened onto a shady courtyard and
restaurant—all in all, a pleasant place to stay.
25
January - Thiruchirappalli (Trichy)
Trichy
was an enjoyable city, where history and spirituality intertwined. We visited
the awe-inspiring Rock Fort Temple, which majestically rose atop a colossal
rocky outcrop. Together with pilgrims, we ascended the ancient stone steps
carved into the rock. Each step brought us closer to a breathtaking vantage
point that revealed stunning panoramas of the town sprawled below, a vivid
tapestry of colours and life.
Afterwards,
I took a tuk-tuk ride to the Sri Ranganathaswamy Temple, India's largest, featuring
49 Vishnu shrines and seven gopurams (ornate entrance gates). The temple is
dedicated to Vishnu and consists of a massive 60-hectare complex complete with
beggars, pilgrims, tourists and numerous traders selling cheap souvenirs.
26
January - Thiruchirappali – Thanjavur – 63 km
It
was quite a challenge to navigate Tritchi's busy traffic. As we made our way
out of town, a friendly life insurance salesman stopped and offered us
coconuts. Like many others we met, he was curious about our journey and where
we had come from. However, we found it harder to explain where we were headed,
as even we were unsure. Upon parting ways, he gave us his business card and
offered to help us whenever needed. The kindness of the people we met in India
was truly remarkable.
After
a short, enjoyable ride, Ernest and I rolled into Thanjavur, with its World
Heritage Temple complex. These towns typically had plenty of low-cost
accommodation and affordable food, catering to the many pilgrims paying their
respects at the temples.
27
January - Thanjavur – Mayiladuthurai – 80 km
Our
late departure was due to the short distance to Mayiladuthurai. The weather was
incredibly humid, but the day turned out to be enjoyable cycling as the cloudy
conditions illuminated the colours beautifully. Our route led past numerous colourful
temples, shrines and villages.
The
traffic signs never fail to amaze me. They were either non-existent at the most
crucial moments, or useless with bold signs pointing straight, left, or right
when there was no other option.
28
January - Mayiladuthurai – Pichavaram – 60 km
From Mayiladuthurai, an easy ride led us
to Pichavaram. The countryside was flat and peppered with rice paddies and we
reached historic Chidambaram early. It turned out to be another chaotic town
graced with a famous Nataraja temple complex dedicated to Shiva. We didn't stay
long, as Ernest was somewhat templed-out.
A little side track ran from Chidambaram
to the tiny fishing village of Pichavaram, situated along tidal canals. The
state-run restaurant had a few rooms which made it convenient to explore from. By
afternoon, I rented a rowboat (and skipper), and we spent the two hours before
sunset cruising around the backwaters and through the mangrove swamps.
Stopping and exploring weren't what
Ernest wanted to do. Still, he reluctantly joined in the activities, which
created a vibe I found stressful and tiring.
29
January - Pichavaram – Pondicherry – 95 km
Ernest
decided to go his own way, without all the temple stops and rowing through
mangrove swamps. I guessed these activities were as stressful to him as they
were to me—dragging him along and trying to keep an upbeat mood.
My
ride to Pondicherry was relaxed, as the weather was perfect and the route flat
and scenic. A massive calm usually envelopes me when I cycle solo and the ride
was enjoyable and affirmed why I was still cycling.
My arrival
in Pondy was consequently early, but finding accommodation took hours. Rooms were
pricey, and the cheaper ones were full. But, what felt like hours later, I
eventually located lodging at a reasonable rate. Ernest must've had the same
problem as he arrived soon afterwards.
30
January - Pondicherry
Many
moons ago, in 1523, the Portuguese arrived in Chennai, followed by the British
and French nearly a century later. In 1746, the French attacked and seized
control of the British-built fort. It didn't take the British long to recapture
the fort, and the French sailed for Pondicherry, which remained under French
rule until 1954. Even today, the old part of town is still lined with French-era
townhouses, coffee shops and restaurants.
I
spent the day in Pondy, as it is referred to, indulging in cheese and biscuits
as it was here where one could find all kinds of cheese as well as wine - two
things I haven't had in a long time.
Even
though it was a coastal town, the beach was rocky and not popular for swimming.
A walk along the beachfront was pleasant and led past old French buildings,
making the town slightly different from the rest of India.
31
January - Pondicherry – Malappuram – 91 km
The
ride to Malappuram was brilliant—the weather was good as January is a perfect
time to cycle Southern India. The road was flat and ran past rice fields and
the ever-present coconut palms.
Once
in Malappuram, finding accommodation was easy, as the town was touristy and
popular among backpackers, boasting a lively tourist trade, from eateries to
curio sellers. Add one of the best beaches along this coast and it was no
wonder the town was immensely popular.
1
February - Malappuram
My
reason for visiting Malappuram was to explore its UNESCO World Heritage rock-cut
temples dating to the 7th and 8th centuries.
The
morning was spent at the beach—something I had not done in ages. Later I
meandered around Malappuram's famous rock-cut temples. Temples and sculptures
were painstakingly chiselled out of huge boulders strewn around town. The
planning and work that went into these constructions are mind-boggling.
2
February - Malappuram
In the morning, a bus ride took me to
Chennai. I was in search of a charger for my notebook (which I had lost) and also
to see if anyone could sort out my virus-infected laptop. The day was highly
successful as I found an Asus agent and a shop to clean the viruses. Instead of
waiting, I left the computer at the shop, and headed back to the beach.
It was a move I assumed would give
Ernest time to get ahead as the two of us were travelling with different
objectives. Ernest wanted to cycle around the world in record time. I wanted to
explore and cycle with no destination, time or distance in mind. The sole
reason he hung about was for financial reasons.
3
February - Malappuram – Chennai – 61 km
I got
on the bike shortly past 8h00 for the easy ride into Chennai. The closer to the
city, the more hectic the traffic, and I was chuffed when I reached my
destination unscathed. The lack of directions was one problem and asking for directions
another, as the reply was, "Go straight" while pointing either left or right.
Eventually,
I found the Broadlands Lodge, where I again ran into Ernest, which was not
unusual as we both sought the most inexpensive accommodation.
4
February - Chennai
Decisions,
decisions, decisions. I came to a point where I had to decide where to go from
India. I had a few blissful months of no choices, but it was time to make the call.
The Indian-Myanmar land border was closed, and one had to fly out of India to
reach other Asian countries, i.e., Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam.
The
other option was to continue north to Nepal to secure a permit to enter Tibet
and from there onwards to China. The downside was that once over the Himalayas
and in China, one would be in a desert area. I had cycled through enough deserts
to last me several lifetimes—the idea of cycling through another was enough to
put me off the whole idea.
On
the one hand, I was reluctant to fly due to the cost and the hassle of packing
and getting my bike and bags to the other side. That said, I wasn't quite ready
to give up visions of a beach life, which hopefully awaited in Thailand. At
least I had time as India's weather was expected to remain pleasant for a few
months until the monsoon season started.
5-6
February - Chennai
The
Broadlands Lodge was a fascinating ramshackle place. Although old and
dilapidated, the establishment had a great atmosphere and came with a curious
jumble of courtyards, stairs and alleyways. I was lucky to meet a fellow traveller
with an excellent music collection, which he kindly let me copy.
7
February - Chennai – Naidupeta - 118 km
The
following morning, Ernest and I set out and headed north along the highway (I
never learned). The road was in excellent condition, and a slight tailwind made
for good progress. The Indians were generally fascinated by our travels, and a
newspaper reporter interviewed us again.
I
was excited about my decision to cycle to Nepal. An overland trip from Cape
Town to Kathmandu had always appealed to me, but I never contemplated doing it
on a bicycle.
8
February - Naidupeta – Kavali – 131 km
An
additional day was spent cycling along the highway—at least the way was in good
condition and the going easy. People we met pointed out an article about our
adventure in the newspaper, and asked for our autographs, which we thought was pretty
amusing at the time.
The previous
day, our path crossed from Tamil Nadu to Andhra Pradesh. The states varied slightly, as each had its favourite food and Hindu gods. Hanuman
(the Monkey God) seemed the most popular in Andhra Pradesh.
9
February - Kavali – Ongole - 72 km
India
is massive. To give a distance perspective, I left the southernmost point 22
days ago, and there remained 1,400 kilometres to Kolkata and a further 900
kilometres to the Nepalese border.
Even
more extraordinary was that people defecated in full sight—on the beach, next
to the railway line, and along the road. I kid you not! In Africa, people, in
general, went into the bushes. Still, it seemed ordinary in India to do your
business in full view. Now, that was something that took getting used to!
10
February - Ongole – Vodarevu Beach - 71 km
At
first, I thought turning off to Vodarevu Beach was a mistake, as our digs were
stuffy and had a strong fishy smell. But, by evening, the beach became a hive
of fishing boats returning from their day at sea. The catch was sold in an
auction-style frenzy of chaos. While this was taking place, the next set of
flimsy boats took to the open seas for yet another night of fishing.
11
February - Vodarevu Beach – Challapalle - 96 km
We
got underway at around 10 o'clock. The day was enjoyable along village lanes,
past tiny settlements, cornfields, and the ever-present rice paddies. By then,
being interviewed by newspaper reporters had become a daily occurrence.
Once
across the Krishna River Delta, the small town of Challapalle became home for
the night. Our abode was a traditional guesthouse. More basic accommodation
would be difficult to find, but at 100 rupees, one couldn't complain.
Indian
men constantly chewed paan (a replacement for cigarettes), making their teeth
red and giving them a Dracula-like appearance. Hence, the habit was to spit
long jets of red paan juice just about anywhere. Evidence of this could be
found in nearly all budget rooms, and traces of paan spit covered bedroom walls.
12
February - Challapalle – Narsapur - 128 km
Take
perfect weather, throw in a good road and grand vistas, and it makes a perfect
cycling day. While following country lanes, and taking wrong turns on three
occasions, our path eventually landed at a bridge washed away by the storm
waters. An obscure old wooden ferry boat carted pedestrians, bicycles and
motorbikes across the river, a lengthy process. This little diversion turned
out quite fascinating. Each day, a short article about our travels would appear
in the paper, and people would quickly point it out and ask for our autographs.
Imagine that! Hahaha.
As
we moved further east, and it still being winter, the sun set reasonably early,
so we peddled like the clappers to reach Narsapur before sunset.
Tiny
Narsapur dates to 1173 AD, and history has it that the Dutch landed in Narsapur
in 1626 and used the town as a shipbuilding yard. I wondered if the Dutch
brought the lace industry to town, an industry still prevalent today.
13
February - Narsapur – Jaanam (Yanam) - 79 km
Our
ride to Jaanam was interesting and picturesque and I didn't need the iPod.
I was once more surprised to find newspaper reporters wanting to interview us.
We reached Yanam, a former French colony, in good time and pulled in, primarily to
do laundry. While the town had quite a good location along the Godavari River,
no accommodation could be found. Once settled at a guesthouse in the city, the
taps ran dry, and we could not do our laundry.
14
February - Yanam – Tuni - 106 km
The
route to Tuni hugged the Coringa Wildlife Sanctuary, which incorporates India's
second-largest stretch of mangrove forest and is home to the endangered
white-backed and long-billed vultures.
Amusingly,
mentioning that you are cycling to the next town, a hundred kilometres away, was
akin to saying you were venturing into outer space. As one man pointed out, Tuni
was 60 kilometres away and too far to go by bike—better to go to the next
village which was 10 kilometres away. He was adamant it wasn't possible to
cycle to Tuni in a day. Although everyone in India cycled (it's, after all,
home of the Hero bike), no one goes far, generally merely to the market.
Two
more newspapers reported about our journey, and people flagged us down to show
us the reports. No sooner were we in Tuni than a TV crew spotted us and gave us
a lengthy interview. At least the excitement and all the attention made up for
the dreary room. Not all Indian hotels were substandard but choosing budget
options made getting a dirty room highly likely.
15
February - Tuni - Visakhapatnam - 110 km
From
Tuni, the highway to Visakhapatnam was shared by bicycle salesmen stacked high
with everything imaginable, from plastic chairs to pots and pans. The excellent
road made it easy to ride into Visakhapatnam, or Vizag, as it's commonly referred
to.
Vizag
was significantly larger than anticipated and had plenty of budget accommodation
around the train station. This time our lodging had clean sheets, which made me
as happy as the proverbial pig.
16-18
February - Visakhapatnam
The
following day was spent attending to routine rest-day tasks—laundry, internet,
and stocking up on essentials. In the morning, a train ride took us from Vizag
to the Araku Valley, 120 kilometres north of Vizag, known as the region's best
train ride. For 21 rupees, a spectacular five-hour train ride took us through
the beautiful, lushly forested Eastern Ghats to Araku town. Once in Araku, a further
Rp 10 bus ride dropped us at Borra Caves. This one-million-year-old limestone
cave was immense, quite spectacular, and considered the deepest in India.
Taking
the train in India in the "general section" is an experience. Passengers were
packed in like sardines, and sari-clad women gave us a good old stare and it's best
to try striking up a conversation.
The next
day was spent in Vizag, primarily to shop for new sandals as Ernest's were
falling apart. By evening, the cooler temperature made it a perfect time for a
beachfront stroll, sampling the food on offer.
19
February - Visakhapatnam – Srikakulam – 109 km
The map
wasn't as accurate as one would've liked, and, instead of following the coast, our
path spat us out on the highway. With the help of a good tailwind, cycling became
an absolute pleasure. We understood from passers-by there were short clips of
us on TV, and people stopped to tell us they'd seen us and took a few pictures.
I was happy I wasn't a celebrity and had renewed respect for them. I didn't
think I could continuously handle this kind of attention. More remarkable was
how quickly one became blasé about it.
Soon
afterwards, we reached Srikakulam and we called it a day, mainly due to the
sweltering heat. Finding budget digs was more difficult than we envisaged due
to the town's Arasavalli Sun Temple, a seventh-century sun temple considered
one of the oldest sun temples in India. It's an important temple, and many
pilgrims filled the town's more economical rooms.
20
February - Srikakulam – Palasa – 89 km
Our initial
plan was to do 140 kilometres. Still, we came upon the smallish town of Palasa,
one of India's largest cashew-producing towns. The town looked good enough to
spend the night, and heading out on the hunt for supper was an adventure as the
streets came alive with people, carts, bicycles and rickshaws. Food carts were
numerous, and the variety was immense. Once we bagged a meal of veg-fried
noodles and other essentials, we headed to our abode to feast.
21-23
February - Palasa – Gopalpur – 93 km
Approaching
the border between Andhra Pradesh and Orissa, the route deteriorated. Trucks
were lined up for kilometres on end—add roadworks, and the area became a
congested dust bowl. Once across the border, a smaller path veered off to the
seaside village of Gopalpur, a small, pleasant place with heaps of budget
accommodation, a small beachfront promenade, and stacks of food carts.
By
then, we'd become fussy and wanted reasonably priced ground-floor
accommodation, preferably around a courtyard. As Ernest had been in Gopalpur a
few months previously, he knew where to find Mr Singh's Tourist Holiday Inn,
which had a few rooms arranged around a courtyard. At 140 rupees, the inn was
considered such a bargain that we stayed for three days.
While
working on his bike, Ernest discovered his bicycle's rear axle was broken. Soon,
he was on the phone with my sister, Amanda, and begged her to send more spares.
24
February - Gopalpur – Balugaon – 86 km
Aided
by a good tailwind, the ride became most enjoyable. Unfortunately, unforeseen expenditures
at home left me broke, requiring for even stricter economising than before. In
Balugaon, our accommodation was along Lake Chilika. The next morning, the plan
was to take the ferry across the lake to Satapada.
This
brackish lake is one of the largest in India and well known for its migratory
birds. So, instead of taking a tourist boat at Rp 600 each to see the spectacle
of million-plus birds coming from as far afield as Siberia, we decided to take
the public ferry to Satapada at Rp 40 (on the opposite side of the lake).
By evening,
Ernest made a substantial potato dish.
25-26
February - Balagoan – Puri – 169 km
We
were up at 5h00 to catch the ferry at 6h00, but to our surprise found no ferry,
just a tiny fishing vessel loaded with ice and other fishing paraphernalia. The
price shot up to 250 rupees, and we gave up and cycled around the lake to Puri.
I was disappointed as the distance was not simply substantially farther than I
wanted to go, but the lake had been listed as a tentative UNESCO World Heritage
Site. Still, the weather was scorching and the landscape not as exciting as we'd
become accustomed to.
Due
to the long distance cycled, arrival in Puri, situated along the Bay of Bengal,
was late. Nevertheless, I discovered a decent abode with a shared bathroom and
a hot shower, precisely what was needed after such a long day. After easily
cycling such a distance, I assumed a broken axle was not such a disaster.
The
heat continued into the next day - by the time the temperature was mentioned in
the papers, one knew the weather was unseasonably hot (even in India). The day
was spent doing laundry and resting indoors, only emerging to walk along the
beach by evening.
27
February - Puri – Konark – 45 km
Puri
is primarily known for its 12th-century Jagannatha Temple, one of the original Hindu
pilgrimage sites. Before setting off, we took time to explore this famous temple.
Non-Hindus weren't allowed inside, but one could view the temple from the nearby
library's roof. Konark was a mere 36 kilometres along the coast and housed another
well-known temple, the Sun Temple and a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
Unfortunately,
our guesthouse felt like an oven, complete with an unbearably noisy fan. At
least our lousy abode allowed us to see the Sun Temple at night while lit up.
28
February - Konark – Bhubaneshwar – 64 km
From
Konark, a short and pleasant ride led to chaotic Bhubaneswar, home to the
famous Udaygiri and Khandagiri Caves, where I vowed never to get a windowless
room again. Windowless, however, appeared the least of our problems, as no
rooms seemed available. Many budget hotels didn't cater to foreigners.
Following a long search, a spacious but overpriced establishment was eventually
located. Happy dance!
The
lack of rooms was due to Bhubaneshwar's history and its old religious centre, which
came complete with a ceremonial tank. Of the many stone temples built here over
a thousand years ago, only 50 remain. Add an ancient cave complex and
accommodation was bound to be in high demand.
1
March - Bhubaneswar – Chandikhol – 81 km
From
Bhubaneswar, we first tried cycling along a minor road, but found it in such poor
condition that we returned to the highway. Chandikhol was reached early, but
Ernest wanted to stay to watch cricket. The game's tension must've gotten to him,
as he polished off an entire bottle of whiskey!
2
March - Chandikhol – Balasore – 137 km
There
was no getting away early (due to the whiskey mentioned earlier) and a tedious day
was spent cycling along the highway. Ernest had more bike problems than anyone.
Not that I (or other cyclists) never had issues. He just had more, mainly
because he spent his money on his other vices. I preferred to have mine fixed
at a professional bike shop. He had his usual flat tyre on this day and had to
fix the punctured tube in the presence of the usual crowd of spectators. I
giggled while watching the spectacle from afar. The kids were highly interested
in the bell, gears and odometer, which irritated Ernest to no end as he most
likely had a terrible hangover. Encountering road works in the last 50 kilometres
didn't help either. Considering all the delays, it wasn't surprising we only
arrived in Balasore shortly before dark.
3
March - Balasore – Baripada – 58 km
From
Balasore, the route to Nepal veered inland, turning away from the coast. The
scenery instantly changed, and the countryside became far drier.
Baripada
was a hive of activity and security forces lined the streets. The chaos was due
to the Chief Minister being in town and a podium was erected on the main road from
where he addressed the people. Due to these activities, rooms were scarce, and we
had to wait an hour until one became available. While waiting, youngsters befriended
us (and in true Indian style, we were addressed as "Auntie" and "Uncle"). Then,
they treated us to beer, proudly pointing out I was the first woman ever to frequent
the bar. At least, when all else fails, I'll have that incident to add to my résumé!
4
March - Baripada – Ghatsila – 99 km
While
crossing from Orissa to the little-visited Jharkhand, the landscape became
slightly hillier with even fewer tourists. Few travellers ventured to the state
of Jharkhand, immediately evident as villagers stared nervously without as much
as a wave.
In
Ghatsila, we found lodging with curious onlookers in close pursuit. We had to
close the bedroom door and windows to get privacy. The Indians are such a
curious bunch, and I guess they wanted to see what two foreigners were up to
and what was in those panniers. As a guy pointed out, the panniers were most
likely to carry rice and water.
5
March - Ghatsila – Jamshedpur – 50 km
Though
the ride to Jamshedpur was short, the route was extremely narrow and hectic
with trucks and busses. Ernest wasn't feeling well, and we turned down to Jamshedpur,
where finding accommodation became highly frustrating — eventually, we opted for
the Holiday Inn (not part of the hotel group), the most inexpensive
accommodation available to foreigners. I was convinced neither the hotel nor
the town had ever had a female foreign guest. Staff stared blatantly while
others captured this rare event on camera. One could only laugh at the
bizarreness of the situation.
6
March - Jamshedpur – Bundu – 94 km
Ernest,
suffering from an upset stomach, wasn't feeling strong but wanted to push
onward towards Ranchi. Unfortunately, the way was incredibly congested, the
road surface in poor condition, and the going frustratingly slow.
We
reached the tiny village of Bundu in the late afternoon and our enquiries about
accommodation were unsuccessful. We eventually ended up at the Catholic Mission
School (St Xaviers HS). We were given a space in the priest's quarters as well
as supper and breakfast.
7-8
March - Bundu – Ranchi – 47 km
The
day began with predictions of a significant hill looming ahead. The estimated
uphill distance varied from one to 10 kilometres. However, it turned out to be
approximately 13 kilometres with a climb of barely two kilometres.
Midway
through the day, a truck driver, smelling of alcohol, approached us to take a
selfie. It was concerning that very few of these drivers had valid driver's
licenses. Coupled with poor road conditions and narrow roads, and adding
alcohol to the mix, it felt like a miracle that we made it to Ranchi unscathed.
Finding
accommodation in Ranchi was more challenging than expected. Despite numerous
hotels along Main and Station Road, none were licensed to accommodate
foreigners. Eventually, we found overpriced lodging where we stayed for two
days to allow Ernest time to recover from his upset stomach.
9
March - Ranchi – Hazaribag – 96 km
The
day promised a climb up to the Hazaribagh Plateau, but none of it materialised.
Instead, we found a massive descent. The route was nothing short of
hair-raising, with countless trucks flying past at high speed. In addition, the
area was known as a coal mining area, and the black dust clung to our sweaty
limbs. All this made for a stressful day and I was happy to reach Hazaribag
(black face and all) where, luckily, we found accommodation at the first place we
enquired.
10-12
March - Hazaribag – Bodh Gaya – 126 km
Our
ride to Bodh Gaya was terribly stressful and downright awful! Barely 20 kilometres
outside of town, we came across a hit-and-run accident victim. In passing, we
noticed an unconscious man in spasms lying next to the road, his broken
motorbike and bags strewn all over the place. We waved down a passing
motorcyclist who mercifully had a phone to call an ambulance. Unfortunately, little
could be done, as the person was unconscious and seriously injured. This made
me realise how fortunate we were to arrive safely at our daily destination. Bodh
Gaya was reached in good time, where we found lodging and I flopped down on the
bed exhausted.
Contrary
to our day, Bodh Gaya, where Buddha reached enlightenment, was a peaceful
place. The entire village is built around an old temple where Buddha was
rumoured to sit under a tree. The original tree is long gone, but a sapling of
that tree was planted in its place. By the time of our visit, this was already
a large and old tree.
The
following day was spent wandering around the various temples and gardens. I believe
us extremely lucky to be there during "Holi". Being a national holiday,
children enjoyed painting all with coloured powder and spraying red and green
water.
13-14
March - Bodh Gaya – Patna – 135 km
The
ride from Bodh Gaya to Patna was awful. While overtaking a stationary vehicle,
it unexpectedly pulled into the lane, knocking off one of the bike's panniers
and driving over it. As we entered Patna, we encountered equally hectic
traffic. After locating a guesthouse in the city centre, we booked a two-night
stay. Ernest was able to collect one of the two parcels my sister had sent.
Since the second parcel hadn't arrived yet, Ernest didn't want to wait in
Patna. Instead, he suggested cycling to Varanasi and back, which was over 500
kilometres. By then, I had enough of the dreadful traffic and felt it was
unnecessary to put ourselves in harm's way.
15
March - Patna - Ara – 65 km
Whatever
I suggested wasn't good enough and, eventually, we took off through the
traffic. As anticipated, Ernest was knocked off the road by a truck. Luckily,
there was run-off space, and he managed to keep the bike under control. Unfortunately,
the remainder of the ride was marred by equally stressful traffic until reaching
Ara.
16
March - Ara – Buxar – 74 km
In
the morning, TV and newspaper reporters waited outside. After a lengthy
interview and filming, we were finally on our way. Traffic remained dangerously
hectic, and the best part of the day was finding the Tourist Bungalow in Buxar,
a friendly place with good, clean rooms. The room had a tiny balcony providing
both air and light. Add the melodious chanting from a nearby temple, and I
couldn't be happier.
17-21
March - Buxar - Varanasi – 135 km
Ernest
and I were constantly at odds and cycled in near silence, which wasn't the vibe
I needed in my life. Moreover, the horrendous traffic and poor road conditions
didn't do much for my already dark mood. Arriving late in Varanasi, a chaotic
town at the best of times, left me positively fuming! Varanasi, a substantial
and congested city with narrow and confusing alleys, wasn't the place I wanted
to be right then.
Once
I calmed down, I found Varanasi to be a place like no other. Not only is it
considered one of the holiest cities, but it's a place where people come to
die. Hindu scriptures state that dying here and getting cremated along the
Ganges allows you to break free from the cycle of rebirth - which sounds like a
good enough reason to me. Thousands come here towards the end of their lives. I
stared wide-eyed as families hurried to the river carrying corpses, chanting
prayers for the dead person's soul, while thick smoke rose from the nearby
ghats. It's a city of sacred pools, funeral pyres, and a place where Hindus aim
to attain a sacred form of enlightenment at death. Both bizarre and spiritual,
dragging myself away from Varanasi was hard. The longer I stayed, the more
fascinating the town and rituals became.
22
March - Varanasi – Mau – 128 km
Ernest
and I bid farewell to Varanasi and set off before the clock struck 9:30, which
was considered early for us. We rode on to Ghazipur, where we parted ways—with
me heading north towards Nepal and Ernest east.
Travelling
solo always presented a whole new set of experiences. It seemed like people
were even more curious about my adventures and were always ready to lend a
helping hand. However, one challenge was keeping the ever-curious crowds at
bay. Every now and then, there would be a knock on my door with some flimsy
excuse, and I would find several faces peering around the corner. It was pretty
amusing, albeit a bit exasperating at times.
23
March - Mau – Gorakhpur – 110 km
After
a short but exhausting ride from Mau, I finally rolled into Gorakhpur. The ride
was less than pleasant as the road was a patchwork of bumps and potholes that made
every turn a mini-adventure.
I
headed straight to the bustling bus station area—an exhilarating hub of
activity perfect for travellers like me and where I knew I could find budget
hotels and plenty of food options. My search led me to a cozy little
accommodation. While it may not have been the most pristine place, it had its
own charm and, most importantly, it was easy on the wallet.
24
Match – Gorakhpur, India – Bhairawa, Nepal – 104 km
After enjoying a delicious breakfast of poori and curry vegetables, I began my final ride in India. It was time to leave, considering I had been in India for
more than six months. The border crossing at Sunauli was chaotic, but that was
expected in India. On the Nepali side, I obtained a one-month stay visa for
$40.
Four
kilometres to the north was the small village of Bhairawa, where I found
surprisingly clean rooms at the Mt Everest Hotel. They even had a shower with
warm water, which was a pleasant surprise.
After
settling in, I took care of the usual tasks one does in a new country, such as
withdrawing local currency from the ATM and purchasing a SIM card. The process
was quite a hassle, and included being fingerprinted. Still, I was delighted to
be in a new country.
